#and now my brain is trying to make him have a particularly bad nightmare he relapses after and turns into a tank for a while | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chapel-of-rizztual · 1 year ago

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Hi! I was wondering if you could maybe write some comfort for me? 🥺. My energy has been gone the last few days, can't even take care of myself and I've been feeling/acting really childish in my head even though to others I'm still my normal self.. I'm not sure if I can ask this, but can you use this when writing?

(Doing this on anon because I'm pretty scared that I'm being rude, words haven't been easy for me lately. I'm sorry)

Hi my love, I’m sorry to hear you’re aren’t feeling yourself, I know the feeling of being lost in your own head well and how scary it can be. I hope this helps a little <3 You left this pretty vague so I hope this is okay.

1.6k of dewther fluff and comfort because I love and miss them so much

Aether bolts up from a deep sleep unexpectedly to a high pitched screeching. His brain slow and sluggish with sleep trying to decipher what the sound is. He blinks owlishly around his room, thankful for ghouls abilities to see in the dark, the clock in his bedside table reads 02:14. The screeching stops for a second before being replaced with a desperate wail, piercing in pitch.

Dewdrop.

Fucking lucifer below, their rooms are on the opposite ends of the ghouls dormitories, how loud was he being if Aether could hear him? He jumps from his nest before he even thinks about it, taking a blue fleece blanket and wrapping it around himself. Despite it getting into the warmer seasons now there was still a chill in the air at night. He walks quickly and quietly down the hall, towards Dew’s room, not wanting to wake anyone else up if Dew’s screaming already hadn’t.

He get to Mountain’s room, right next to Dew’s, and sees both Mountain and Swiss sticking their heads of the door, eyes heavy and ears pinned back.

“Is that Dew?” Swiss whispers, voice thick with sleep.

“I’ve got this, you two can go back to sleep.”

Mountain nods, pulling Swiss back into his room.

“Tell him we love him.” And with that the door closes.

Aether doesn’t even knock, just pushes the door to Dews room open and is met with a heartbreaking sight. Dew was knelt in the middle of his nest, tail wrapped around himself, desperately clutching at one of his blankets, which Aether think was one of his originally. He’s shaking like a leaf on the wind, eyes wide and wild as they dart around the room, almost like he’s looking for something, ears pinned back in pure fear. He’s still screaming, tears flowing down his face as he locks eyes with Aether, a wet gargle sound leaving his lips, making grabby hands towards him.

The smell of ammonia hits him as he rushes towards him, pulling the smaller ghouls into his arms with ease, pulling his legs around his hips, cradling the smaller ghoul in his arms. He notices the a wet patch at the back of Dew’s pyjama pants but ignores that for now, focusing on getting Dew to calm down.

“Nightmare? Seems like a bad one this time.” He whispers.

Dew whimpers at him, screaming subsided as he takes shuddering gasps of air. He buries his face into Aethers neck, nodding before hiccuping as another wave of tears flow down his cheeks.

Aether sits back against the headboard, avoiding the wet patch in Dew’s nest, and rocks them bath back and forth, rubbing slow circles on his back. He wraps his blanket around the smaller ghoul as he feels gooses bumps form in his skin, his shaking increasing slightly.

Dew let’s out a particularly hard wail, hand clamping down on Aether’s shoulders so hard he might have drawn blood.

“Oh I know, baby boy, I know.” He buries his hand in Dews hair, using his claws to scratch at his scalp. “It must have been a really bad one for you get into a state like this.”

Dew having nightmares wasn’t uncommon. They’d all been woken up at some point by Dews painful screaming or to him jumping into someone’s bed with tears running down his face. But normally it only took a few minutes for him to calm down, once he realised he was safe and everyone he loved was also safe, it was easy for him to drift back off to sleep. But of course on rare nights, nights like tonight, he’d have nightmares that shook him to his core, that left him visibly shaking and unable to sleep for days.

Dew shakes his head and another sob wracks his body a fresh batch of tears flowing down his face. He lets out a weird gargle sound into Aether’s neck before pulling away abruptly, looking at Aether with wide panicked eyes as he gags properly.

Aether takes his chin in between his thumb and pointer finger tipping his head back slightly as Dew retches again, looking at home with even more panicked eyes.

“A-aether.”

“I know, baby. I need you to take some deep breaths for me, okay?” He rubs his thumb along Dew’s jawline. “Can you do that for me, darling?”

Dew nods as he shudders, desperately trying to fight off another gag.

“Don’t want you being sick, do we?” He scratches at Dews scalp again. “Deep breath, just like this, baby boy.” He takes a deep exaggerated breath, smiling when Dew copied him with a staggered breath.

“Good boy.” He rubs down Dew’s back. “Can you do that again for me, baby?”

Dew gags again, but it’s weaker this time but manages to take a deep breath. He repeats himself without Aether instructing him.

“Good boy, just like that.” Aether brushes a few strands of hair from his face. “Doing so well, darling.

There are still tears running down Dew’s face but his breathing evens out a little more, cry’s turning into sniffles and the occasional whimper, the sudden nausea obviously worn off. He rests his head on Aether’s shoulder, relaxing into him a little as the initial panic of his nightmare dies down.

“There we go, that’s much better isn’t it?” Aether says as he pulls the blanket tighter around the both of them. He wraps his tail around Dew’s thigh, hoping it will bring him comfort.

Dew sniff and nods, burying his head back into Aether’s neck, rubbing his nose along his scent gland.

They stay like that for a while, Aether gently rocking them back and forth as he listens to Dew taking deep breath’s into his neck. He sniffles and huffs occasionally, little puffs of air hitting Aether’s neck. Aether purrs quietly, hoping the gentle vibration will sooth Dew even more.

“You feeling a little better now?”

Dew hums and nods against Aether’s neck.

“You wanna talk about it?”

Dew whimpers and shakes his head desperately. “No, please. A-aether, just want to forget.”

“Okay, baby boy. Whatever you want.” Aether twists Dew’s hair around his finger.

Dew hums again, burying his face further into Aether’s neck with a small purr. At least he was purring now, he must be feeling slightly better, despite the fact the Aether’s sleep shirt was still getting damp.

Dew squirms in his lap slightly before settling down again. That doesn’t last long before he’s squirming again a discontented whine leaving his lips.

“You okay, baby boy?”

Dew let’s out another whine, pulling away from his neck. “Uncomfortable.” He pouts.

“Ah, yeah. I think you might have peed a little in your panic.” Aether says gently, still playing with Dew’s hair.

Dew’s bottom lip wobbles again as tears run down his face again. “I didn’t meant too.” he sniffs, eyes doe like and wide. “I promise.”

“I know, darling, I know.” Aether runs a thumb over Dew’s cheek bones. “How about we clean you up, and we go back to my nest and go back to sleep?”

“Yes please.”

Aether carry’s Dew to his bathroom with ease. It doesn’t take long to clean him up, simply running a damp wash cloth over him, he doesn’t complain or whine once just Clings to Aether like a lifeline as he does his thing. He leave Dew’s damp pyjama pants screwed up in a ball on his bathroom floor, a job for tomorrow, along with the blankets in his nest, that he’ll make sure to wash first thing.

He gives Dew the option of putting pyjamas back on or staying naked, Dew chooses to stay naked, so Aether wraps his blanket around him tightly to keep the chill off his naked body. He picks him up bridal styles and makes his way out of Dew’s room, towards his own.

“Let’s get you settled in my room, hopefully we can both go back to sleep.” He places a kiss to Dew’s damp cheek, causing Dew to squeak. There was still the odd tear that runs down Dew’s cheek despite him calming down.

They pass Mountain’s room, hearing two sets of snoring making Aether smile. At least they weren’t disturbed too much.

Once in Aether’s room, he deposits Dew into the middle of his nest, still wrapped in his blanket and watches as he wiggles around in the mass of blankets and furs getting comfortable. He stretches and yawns.

“Oh, big stretch.”

Dew whines, not being able to settle and pouts up at Aether.

“Aetherrrrrrr. Please.”

“I’m sorry, don’t worry, I’m coming.” Aether says as he strips his shirt and pants off, leaving him on just his boxers.

He climbs into his nest, going to spoon Dew but the smaller ghoul has other plans as he climbs on to top of Aether, finally setting on top of him. He buries his face into Aether’s chest with a purr as he rubs a cheek along his chest hair.

He curls up with a happy chip on Aether, the bigger ghouls scratching his back gently. Dew’s tail wraps around Aether’s arm, tightly.

“That better, baby boy? You comfy now?”

Dew hums, his face once again burying into Aether’s neck once again.

“Think you can sleep now? Think you’ve calmed down enough?” Aether asks running a hand through Dew’s hair once again.

Dew nod into his neck with a small thrill, curling himself up even smaller on top of Aether. “Can I sleep here?” He asks in a small voice.

“Of course baby, as long as you’re comfortable.”

Dew hums once again, finally feeling safe enough to let his eyes slip closed.

Aether stays awake for a little while long, just to make sure Dew is fine and sleeping soundly, letting one hand run through Dew’s hair and the rub circles on his back. He waits Until Dew’s small sniffles turn into soft snore against his neck, purrs vibrating in between snore, before he lets his own eyes slip shut. His own purrs mixed his Dew’s and his gentle snores lulling him into a peaceful sleep easily.

#thank you for the ask!#the band ghost #ficlet #ghost headcanons #nameless ghouls #dewdrop ghoul #aether ghoul #anonymous #my writing

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part-time-zombie · 6 months ago

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Old Habits

pairings: anxceit (platonic, can be seen as romantic)

summary: virgil remembers how to deal with nightmares and panic attacks, and he doesn't want to remember who used to be there to help him. janus isn't forgetting anytime soon.

tags: panic attack, probably poorly described, nightmares, emotional hurt/comfort, angst, janus still cares, virgil wishes he didn't

word count: 1711

a/n: i wrote this after reading a post(?) saying how you can deal with anxiety/panic attacks by sucking on an ice cube so the cold shocks you out of the panic, and i decided to use it for this fic.

Virgil was used to nightmares. He’s had to deal with them for most if not all of his life, and by now he’d gotten used to bolting awake in the middle of the night, heart pounding in his ears. When that happens, he usually only needs a minute or two to get a hold of himself before he can lie back down and go back to bed. Sometimes, he needs to resort to more extreme measures. Music helps, as does pacing back and forth down the hall until his nerves finally ease up. Still, he remembers the nights when he’d all but fall out of bed, breathless and panicked and in desperate need of proof that he was alright. Those nights used to be easier before.

Tonight is one of those nights, with a particularly terrible dream haunting him even after he woke up with a scream trapped in his throat. He looked around the room, seeing nothing but danger in every shadow and corner. He wasn’t safe here, he needed to get out.

Throwing the sheets aside and standing on shaky legs, Virgil stumbled to his door and all but fell into the wall on the other side of the hall with a painfully loud thud. Sliding numbly down the wall, he collapsed limply to the floor, the impact forcing a gasp from him. He tried to think past his own pounding heartbeat and the tightness in his chest to get his bearings. He needs to get up. The others could have heard him, they’ll wake up and see him like this and it’ll only get worse. He needs to go, if not to his room then downstairs to the living room. He can ride the rest of this out on the couch there.

One look at the stairs left him reeling. Bad idea, there was no way he would be able to make it down those without falling and breaking his neck. He can’t stay here, though. He has to at least try to stand, before he gets seen by-

“Virgil?”

Janus’ visage crept into his periphery, and Virgil felt like the world was going to end. Why did it have to be Janus? It could have been anyone else and he wouldn’t have complained, but it had to be Janus that found him like this. As if tonight couldn’t get any worse.

“Another nightmare, I gather?” Janus asked.

Virgil couldn’t respond even if he wanted to. His chest was tight and his heart was pounding in his ears and he couldn’t breathe.

“Guess so.”

Janus moved closer, eventually kneeling down until he was eye level with Virgil. There was no mockery or coldness in his eyes, only understanding.

“I’m not going to ask you to talk, but I do need you to try to breathe. Can you do that?”

Virgil did his best to nod, forcing his lungs to work even if by a little. It was tough, and almost painful to draw even a small breath, but he still tried to at least start breathing. He had to try; it was the first step in calming back down and he knew that, but getting his brain to cooperate right now was nearly impossible.

“The floor can’t be very comfortable for you. Would you rather have a breakdown on the couch or in my room? Something tells me your room would only make matters worse, but if you want we can still do that.”

Virgil tried to focus past the panicked haze in his head to think. He really doesn’t want to be in the hall. Someone would see him, well, someone else, and the floor was cold and hard and only made it harder to calm down. His bed was comfortable enough, but his mind was still insistent on it being unsafe. That’s where the nightmare was from, he’s not going back there.

Janus offered his room, and as nice as it sounded to collapse into a bed and be wrapped warmly in weighted sheets, it couldn’t be Janus’ room to do that. It just couldn’t.

The ache in his chest made the simple act of talking painful, so Virgil instead jerked his head in the direction of the stairs, hoping Janus would get the hint.

Janus understood, shifting until he was kneeling beside him. “I’m not about to have you walk while you’re like this, which means I have to carry you. Any complaints?”

Virgil had many, but it’s not like he was capable of voicing them right now. Not when it felt like his whole chest had collapsed. As long as he made it to the couch in one piece, he’d be fine. He can always sucker punch Janus for it later.

Virgil begrudgingly nodded, and Janus immediately picked him up with ease. He held Virgil in a slightly more dignified version of the princess carry, and slowly walked down the stairs, letting Virgil's head fall heavily against his chest the whole while. It was beyond embarrassing being held like this by Janus of all sides, but hearing his steady heartbeat guiding his own into a more relaxed rhythm was unfortunately very helpful, and Virgil wished he didn’t find some level of comfort from it.

Janus made it to the couch and carefully set Virgil down, giving him enough space to get comfortable again before speaking.

“Now, try to breathe again. You know you need to do that to start feeling better.”

Of course Virgil did, this happens all the damn time. The problem is, it’s hard to do anything when he can hardly think, and right now it felt like his lungs were being squeezed so tightly they’d explode. He couldn’t try to breathe right now; he could hardly think about anything other than the horrible pain in his chest.

Janus seemed to notice, as he sighed and straightened back up.

“Right. Just keep trying and I’ll be right back, alright?” he said, before walking off somewhere behind him.

For the briefest of moments Virgil felt himself panic at his sudden absence, but he tried his best to focus on his breathing instead. Why the hell should he be upset about Janus leaving? It’s not like they’re close, he has no reason to care about him. God, he’s probably waking Remus up so he can make things worse. They’ll both come back and laugh so loudly that the others will wake up too. Virgil felt his lungs burning from a lack of oxygen, and he realized all too quickly that he had stopped breathing again. He couldn’t breathe. Janus left him, he’s going to make this worse, he’s going to let him die here on the couch, he’s-

“Didn’t I tell you to keep breathing?” Janus teased, returning to his side. Virgil noticed he was alone, with no one else there to make a scene.

“I was just getting something, alright? Let’s try to breathe again, shall we?”

Virgil could hardly listen to what he was saying, but he knew he had to get his lungs to work again. Closing his eyes and focusing as best as he could, he forced as much air as possible into his lungs. Granted it wasn’t a lot, and it hurt like hell, but it was a start.

“That’s it, now try to say something for me.”

Virgil opened his mouth to at least try to talk, only to feel something startlingly cold forced past his lips. He gasped, trying to spit it out, but Janus held his hand firmly over his mouth before he could even try.

“It’s ice from the freezer, sweetie. I’m not trying to kill you or anything. I know it’s cold, and that’s the point. Focus on that and nothing else.”

How the hell could he think about anything other than that? The ice was almost painfully cold, and he was forced to swallow the melting water as it thawed in his mouth. His lungs opened up, working to regulate the sudden shift in internal temperature, and Virgil felt his heart eventually slow down as a result. The longer the ice stayed in his mouth, the more he found himself focusing on the cold instead of the nightmare from earlier and the fear that followed. In fact, it was getting far easier to breathe, and the realization reminded Virgil to take deeper breaths, much to Janus’ approval.

By the time the ice had fully melted, Virgil was finally breathing normally again. Janus withdrew his hand with a smile, taking a seat next to him on the couch.

“Feeling better?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Virgil said with a nod. “Thanks.”

“Of course. Now what do you say to a drink?”

Virgil looked over at him, where he was already holding a glass of ice water.

Now that he mentioned it, Virgil was awfully thirsty. He shrugged before taking the glass in a slightly shaky hand and drinking heartily, poorly feigning an attempt at looking nonchalant.

“I’m guessing you don’t want to tell me what had you so spooked?”

“You guessed correctly,” Virgil rasped in response, the glass already nearly empty by the time he had finished his drink. “I also don’t want to talk about tonight with you later. As far as I’m concerned, it didn’t happen at all.”

“It’s not like anything different happened.”

“That’s the thing. This used to be normal, stuff like this happening between us, but now…“ Virgil sighed. “Now I just don’t know.”

Janus gave him a soft look, one that almost looked hurt. “Why not? This new normal doesn’t have to destroy what we had before. Who’s to say we can’t fall back into routine every now and then? I’ve already looked past everything that happened between us. The only one holding a grudge here is you.”

“Can you blame me?”

Janus sighed, eyes downcast. “No, I suppose not. Just know, I’ll still be around if you ever need me. I still remember what to do for you, and I’ll always help you out.”

“Why?”

Janus gave him a small but wistful smile. “Old habits.”

With that he rose from his seat and returned to his room, leaving Virgil by himself on the couch. Even after all this time, Janus still knew him. Virgil almost wished he didn’t.

@lio-the-chaotic-nonbeanie-weenie @new-zee-land @rougeside4 @britt-ish123 @nico-the-overlord @can-i-take-a-stab @keitaisghost @yuckypuppie

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #virgil sanders #janus sanders #my fic #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fic #angst #sanders sides angst #i hope this is good

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bobbole · 23 days ago

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Falling (November One Word Writing Prompts)

the corinthan x daniel hall

-What's happening here?-

And suddenly, the small crowd huddled in front of Daniel's room fell silent again. Only for a few moments, in truth, just enough for everyone present to stare at the Corinthian with the most different feelings, some of relief, others of fear.

The Nightmare returned their gaze with his usual indifference. He had just come back from a particularly gruesome work and had responded to Lucien's message ill-temperedly, showing up at the palace with his clothes still stained with blood and splattered with brain matter. The damned librarian had hastily summoned him without specifying the reason, and he had not particularly cared to clean himself up.

Lucien make his way through the dream bodies, all dressed and adorned for a special occasion. Some of those dreams had been recently created, or perhaps they were ancient and he had forgotten. No nightmares, but that was to be expected, since the list of delegates had been drawn up by the same librarian who, as everyone knew, was not a great admirer of them.

-You took your time, Corinthian-

-You didn't tell me it was urgent-

The librarian's eyes became two thin slits of rage. The Corinthian hated him.

-Well, now that finally you are here, we need your help. You must speak with his Majesty-

The Corinthian immediately got worried -Did something happen to Daniel?-

-It's Lord Daniel and I don't know, we should have been on our way by now but his Highness suddenly decided to lock himself in his rooms and refuses to talk to anyone, even me and Matthew. I would like you to go and talk to him. Try to understand what happened-

The Nightmare suspected what the reason was, but he doubted Daniel would want to see him. They had an argument some hours earlier and he was dismissed in a bad way, without having the opportunity to explain himself properly.

-I don't think he will talk to me–

The chattering of dreams in the background became louder. They were enjoying an unexpected show.

-Try- Lucien insisted -This mission is important and you are the only one our Lord listens to, although only the Gods of Hell know why-

The little mouths gritted their teeth in anger. If it hadn't been the Dream King, the Corinthian would have turned his back on those fuckers and walked away; but it was Daniel and so he decided to swallow his pride and ignore the tone of those words. He approached the large inlaid door. A cold wind was blowing beyond and ice had already formed on the handle. If it was snowing in that room it was definitely not a good sign.

-My Lord, may I speak with you?-

To the surprise of the Nightmare and all those who had waited for hours outside that room, the door opened immediately and just as quickly closed once the Corinthian entered. Everything in the inside was completely covered in snow, something that usually happened when Daniel was really annoyed. Long stalagmites of ice stretched from the floor, the heavy curtains covering the windows were stiffened by ice crystals. The room was unrecognizable, a vast sequence of white nothing. The only bright spot was the distant light of the emerald around Daniel's neck. The Dream King was sitting on the bed and he deliberately had his back to him

-Daniel-

Dream remained silent.

He tried to walk but the wind was too strong and prevented him from taking even a step.

-Let me come to you-

Daniel merely moved his hand, just enough to decrease the wind intensity, allowing him to approach. The Corinthian made his way, trying not to sink into the fresh snow, leaving behind a trail of blood with his dirty clothes. The room had become enormous, and he had to walk for a while before he was able to reach the bed. His king greeted him with a hostile look.

-What do you want?-

-Daniel, why are you here?-

-I don't think it's any of your business, since you refused to come with me-

-Are you still angry? But I explained that...-

-Enough! If that's all you wanted to talk to me about, you can go-

Leaving would have been the easiest and wisest decision: when Daniel was angry he could become cruel, and his wrath could be as great as his kindness. The Corinthian, however, was known for his boldness, certainly not for his wisdom.

-I will stay with you, if you will allow me-

-Truly arrogant of you to think that I desire your company right now-

But in spite of those words, the Dream King shifted slightly, making room for his Nightmare, who sat beside him, being careful not to brush against his elegant dress.

The snow continued to fall but the wind, at least, had stopped. The Corinthian's trousers appeared even dirtier put closer to the precious, richly embroidered dress Daniel wore. The Nightmare lingered on the intricate movements of those pearlescent threads, as if hidden in the weave of that bright fabric were the right things to say.

-This will be my first mission outside the kingdom-

-Are you afraid they might make a comparison?

-I'm afraid that it may be merciless-

-Any comparison is, my Lord-

He did not mean to be so harsh; in truth, he was talking about himself, without considering that he might upset the Dream King even more. However, Daniel was touched, rather than angered, by that answer and seemed to mull it over in his mind.

-Is this why you don't want to come with me?-

The Corinthian could answer that question, painful as it was, because he knew it well, because a voice in his head kept repeating it to him.

-Unfortunately, a comparison with what I was before will always put me on the losing side-

The snow started to fell more slowly, almost gently, uselessly finesse in an empty space. All anger had disappeared from Daniel's gaze: there was only sadness, of a kind the Corinthian knew well, for it was the same as his own. And a feeling, whose presence they both felt, like another body, eager to speak in turn. The Dream King moved closer, covering the space between them, and laid his head on his Nightmare's shoulder. The white, immaculate dress became slightly smeared with blood.

-There will be a Ball in my honor- The Corinthian smiled. -I have heard. But you won't have to worry about that- -That's not the point-

Daniel raised his head. He was so close that the Corinthian could have kissed him. It would have been so easy, so unbelievably easy, to cover that brief remaining space, allowing that presence between them to speak. He wondered how the Dream King would react if he did.

It was not the first time he asked himself that question.

-My Lord! Hare you here? Is the Corinthian with you?-

Lucien could now be heard clearly, as well as the chatter of the other dreamers, still waiting behind the door. Slowly, the snow disappeared around them and the room regained its usual appearance. On the bed, so close together, without the blanket of asepticity the snow had provided before, that moment revealed an intimacy they had not expected.

-My Lord! Corinthian! Answer me!-

Daniel took his hand, holding it between his own as if it were something precious, and the Nightmare felt that he could be himself with him, different from just a hastily reassembled doll.

-Come with me! Be by my side-

The voice in his head whispered words of derision. He gripped Daniel's hand harder, trying to stay on their intertwined fingers, trying to push the voice away.

-They will never see me. They will look at me and think I am the image of a ghost-

-Please answer me! What's happening?-

Lucien was always there. The voice was always there. And laughed.

-My Lord! Please!-

Shut up, shut up, you're gone, you're fucking gone, shut up, shut up, shut….

Suddenly there was silence again. A deep, reassuring silence that calmed his thoughts. And then Daniel's kiss on his temple, unexpected and blessed, beautiful like a cold hand on a feverish body.

-For me there is only one Corinthian, my Corinthian, and it's you-

The Nightmare closed his eyes and lingered against those lips on his skin. The voice was gone. Lucien too. And surely they would return, but what was most important was there, between them, and there it would remain. It was the answer to his question. Maybe he had been waiting for it since his past life.

#my writing #corinthiel #the corinthian #daniel hall #lucien the librarian #the sandman #writing prompt #november one word writing prompts

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drainslo · 10 months ago

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Brains & Brawn- Chapter 3: The Bar

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Chishiya moved in shortly after the deal you struck. Suddenly, half of your closet was populated with white minimalist clothing. The drawers you never used now had male beach shorts, and the bathroom now had double its usual supplies.

You cursed Hatter once more for forcing you into this nightmare.

Despite Niragi’s mischievous nature, for the first week you holed up in his room. You picked up some sheets and pillows from your room and dragged them outside his door, expecting to sleep on the floor.

“Hey bitch,” Niragi greeted you after you knocked, then his eyes widened when he saw what you were carrying. “Woah, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“What do you think? I’m taking your offer,” you responded and pushed past him into his room.

Niragi gave some weak protests, but he let you walk around and appraise the room. You spread out the sheets on the floor next to his bed and propped up a couple of pillows against a table.

“You think you’re sleeping on my floor? You’re going to get the floor dirty,” Niragi teased. “You can sleep on my bed…”

You groaned outwardly and slapped his arm playfully. Not again. It was bad enough that you had to share a room with Chishiya. You didn’t need Niragi constantly reminding you of it.

“Calm down, I’ll find somewhere else to sleep at night. I’ll make someone wash the sheets and you’re free to stay here as long as you’d like,” Niragi offered. You were faintly surprised at his charitableness. You’d never seen him particularly partial to anyone without reason.

“Thanks Niragi, I don’t know how I can repay you,” you said and flopped back onto his bed in relief.

“I can think of a couple ways,” Niragi winked and you covered your face with your arms.

“Just get out,” you waved your arms towards him in a dismissive manner.

“Hey, it’s my room,” Niragi murmured but left you alone.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Drink. Now.” You slumped next to Niragi at the Beach’s bar while he was mid-conversation with a pretty woman. She waved at you in acknowledgement but kept the conversation going.

Niragi didn’t seem to notice you were there until the bartender gave you a martini, which you knocked back like it was water.

“(Name)?” Niragi sounded confused until he realized it was you. “What the fuck happened to you?”

He turned away from the woman and now directed his full attention to you. You weren’t surprised. It was barely past mid-day, and you usually didn’t start drinking heavily until it was night time.

“Tuesday happened,” you moaned and Niragi sighed while ordering you another drink.

“What, Chishiya’s bad at fucking?” When Niragi saw that you weren’t laughing, he became serious. “Tell me about it,” he said, in a low voice.

“God, he’s so insufferable,” was the only thing you said. You reflected on the events of that morning and sighed heavily.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Flashback to earlier that morning....

It had been two weeks since you struck the deal with Chishiya. Technically, you were supposed to help him to shoot the prior week, but you had a game scheduled.

More precisely, you still didn’t want to face him, so you snuck into the executive room and altered the schedule so you would have a game that Tuesday.

You were anticipating a spades game according to the venue description, and luckily it was a low-level one. Thankfully, there were no deaths from your group. The same could not be said for Mira, who had an unusually high mortality rate as an executive.

Somehow, nobody commented on it.

It was Tuesday again, however, and you felt ready to move back into your room. You reasoned with yourself that you weren’t going to let Chishiya’s intrusion on your life stop you from doing anything. You were going to bring him to the training ground, try to help him shoot, and then reclaim your room.

You unlocked the room, not surprised to find Chishiya sitting at your desk. He was fidgeting with screws, and building something you couldn’t exactly see.

You placed your hand over the holster on your waist nervously and stood in front of him.

“Ready?”

Chishiya didn’t lift his eyes as he spoke. “You weren’t here last Tuesday.”

“I had a game that day. I told you that I wouldn’t come here if I had a game on Tuesday,” you responded.

“Was I supposed to read your mind to find that out?” Chishiya finally looked up at you unamused, and stood up to brush past you.

You followed him out and silently led him to the militant training ground without responding. You glanced behind you from time to time to make sure that he didn’t get lost, but he trailed behind you like a ghost.

The militant training ground was a well-kept secret. Aguni had set it up at your request, and you were the only one who used it frequently. It was a makeshift outdoor shooting range with many targets for you to work on your aim.

Niragi occasionally came to shoot with you begrudgingly, and Aguni even less so. Still, you always counted on it being empty.

Chishiya pulled the gun he was carrying out of one of his pockets, and scrutinized you. It made you feel a little uncomfortable at how heavy his gaze was.

You locked eyes with him, and nearly blushed. The angle of the sunlight reflected off his brown eyes in a way that they resembled honey. Niragi was right, you realized, Chishiya wasn’t so bad-looking.

“What am I supposed to do?” Chishiya’s voice broke the silence for the first time in a while. You reached into your pocket, pulling out two pairs of earplugs and offered one to him.

“Wear these unless you want to go deaf,” you said, dropping them into his outstretched hand.

“I want you to just shoot those five targets,” you pointed at them across the range. You wanted to see how he would fare. Some people had a natural talent for shooting, but no technique to back it up.

Others were hopeless no matter what you taught them.

Chishiya snorted. “How do you expect me to do that? I have no experience with shooting.”

“Just do it,” you said and watched as he put his earplugs in and drew the gun back.

He shot five times, missing every target but one, which barely hit the white edge of the target.

“Not bad,” you said as he lowered his gun.

“Not bad?” Chishiya’s look was incredulous as he paused to think. “Shooting is much harder than I thought. It’s not as easy as it looks in the movies,” he said finally.

“It could always be worse. I didn’t get any my first time, and see how far I’ve come,” you replied nonchalantly.

“Exactly how far?”

“I used to shoot competitively before– you know– here. I was recruited back in college. I’m a pretty good marksman, but I do prefer pistols. I love to just shoot without having to think.”

You waited an uncomfortable moment for Chishiya to respond. He seemed to be appraising you for some reason.

“I can see why you’re a spades player,” Chishiya drolly commented. “I suppose that means your physical talent makes up for… other areas.”

The sudden demeaning comment from Chishiya came as a surprise to you. You were having a relatively civil experience with him until he decided to be degrading towards you.

Before you could stop yourself, you retorted, “And I can see why you’re a diamonds player. I suppose your smarts make up for the lack of athletic capability you clearly seem to possess.”

His cool gaze flickered for a moment. “I can clear spades games just fine. How many diamond games have you cleared? None?”

The reality was you only cleared a couple because you went in with someone else who solved it. You weren’t entirely a moron, but diamonds were far from your strong suit.

His eyes gleamed with satisfaction when he saw that you hesitated before responding. “I wonder if you think before shooting. Have you ever accidentally shot someone before?”

Any pleasant feelings you had vanished. How did he know? The familiar feeling of guilt swelled within you. An image of somebody injured, on the ground, with blood spilling from their body. Running away while getting shot at. Nine of Spades flashing on your phone screen. Horrified looks exchanged among players.

It all was rushing back to you. You needed to get away, to escape. You needed a drink.

“You wouldn’t know fucking anything,” you snarled and left him at the shooting range to find the bar.

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freakshowtwopointoh · 10 months ago

Text

Come Home With Me - All I've Ever Known Part 7

Come home with me

Maybe because she'll make you feel alive

< prev | next >

If you had told me at the start of the semester that Jordan Li would become my closest friend on campus I would have laughed in your face. But it was November now, and I found myself looking for them in every room, letting out a sigh of relief when our eyes would meet. Even though I barely understood myself, Jordan seemed to really see me - the me underneath the layers of deception and anxieties. They would catch my eye across the classroom when one of our professors said something particularly inane, a shared moment of truth amongst the lies.

If I was truly honest with myself, it reminded me of Sam. I could never hide my true feelings or intentions from him either. We used to have the same kind of moment when our dad would wax on and on about what it means to be a hero or whatever sanctimonious bullshit he was spewing that night at the dinner table. And it was an addictive and terrifying thing to be truly known. Especially when there are still skeletons in my closet, and threats looming on the horizon.

Being with Jordan made it easier to push those worries away. They started crashing my study time at the library, sidling up to my table with their characteristic smirk, a coffee in hand.

Today, they slid a cookie across the table at me. I raised an eyebrow at them in confusion but they pointedly ignored me, pulling out their laptop. But I swear I saw a small, satisfied smile flit across their face when I ate it.

It’s strange, the things you notice about someone when you spend a lot of time together. For example, I had never paid attention to how someone moves before. But Jordan moves with precision, like they’ve mapped out what they’re going to do before they’ve done it. And yet, they move quickly - lightning fast reflexes. Despite being a supe, I still usually felt like I had to choose between speed and accuracy, and Jordan had both in spades.

There are other things I’ve noticed. Things I wouldn’t dare admit to - it makes me sound like a creep. But I know the kind of cologne they wear (L'eau d'Issey - I may or may not have recognized the smell in store right away), I know the face they make when they’re biting back a quip, and... yeah, I’m falling for Jordan fucking Li. Despite my best efforts, despite the insane nonsense happening around us, despite the fact that I’m still keeping major secrets from them, I get fucking butterflies when they smile at me.

They don’t need to know about my ... incident during the spring. They’re already helping me with my family shit, already drove me to the fucking cemetery, already help so much with the nightmares that don’t seem to be getting any better. The details are irrelevant, and besides - no one else knows. No one else can know. Even Robert, my dad’s lawyer, keeps certain details from him. The only one who knows the whole truth is Grace, and that’s because she’s the one who found me.

Last night was really bad. I might need to change my sleeping aid because I’m skipping the same number of days but I couldn’t wake up last night. I was trapped, choking, feeling his hand gripping the back of my neck and pressing me deeper into the water.

I don’t remember what happened properly either, which makes it that much harder. It’s like a series of scenes from a television show that have been put back in the wrong order. The doctors said that PTSD is like a memory filing error. My brain was trying to keep me alive, and it didn’t have time to organize the memories properly and put them away in the right place. To me, it feels like I’m still putting together the puzzle of my own life, and I can’t keep my hands from shaking so I keep dropping the pieces. I’m not sure if I’ll ever know the full extent of what happened to me during those few days, or why it happened.

Jordan coughs, and I blink, only to realize I had been staring off into the distance for who knows how long.

“Earth to Maggie. Everything all right up there?” They asked, and despite the casual smirk on their face, I knew they genuinely cared. But that didn’t mean I could tell them everything. That wouldn’t be fair, and it would start me down a path of remembering that would just cause more problems. So I just smiled and nodded.

“Just had trouble sleeping last night.” I said, hoping I sounded relaxed about it.

“Worse than usual?” They asked, looking up briefly from their screen. I nodded, and Jordan just gave me a soft smile before going back to their work. I was glad they didn’t push the issue. Then I remembered their tentative offer from a month or so ago.

By the way, if you ever need to, uh, train with someone

Maybe burning off some steam before bed would do me some good. “Hey, if you’re free tonight... would you be willing to spar for a bit?” I asked hesitantly. “If the offer still stands, of course.” They grinned at me impishly.

“Hell yeah.” And so we ended up in the training room once more, decked out in athletic gear, but this time we were facing down each other instead of sandbags. I settled into my usual stance for sparring but Jordan just smirked and came to adjust my stance. They used their foot to move mine a few inches to the left, and then their hands were on my hips, grabbing them softly and adjusting the angle slightly. My mind went blank.

I didn’t think one touch could render me speechless, but it was all I could do to keep my face from betraying my emotions. My skin burned slightly where their fingers had been, and I swallowed hard. Then Jordan fell into their own fighting stance, their bob tied back, and nodded once.

Especially when fighting, Jordan is fast - and perceptive. Even when I’m trying to disguise my feints, they still seem to know exactly where I’m planning on striking. I sighed in frustration as they continued blocking every strike without breaking a sweat.

“Your lean is a bit too exaggerated when you feint.” They explained, taking a long drink from their water. I tear my eyes away from them before I can really start staring.

We started exchanging blows again and I focused on keeping my movements natural. I even got a few hits in before I got over confident and ended up backed into a corner. And there was that stomach lurching, heart pounding, mind melting feeling as our eyes met. You would think that it’d be impossible to be intimidated by someone a few inches shorter than you, but I legitimately felt my breath catch in my throat.

“You’re improving, little mouse, but I still win.” They said lowly, with that fucking smirk again, and I swallowed hard. I knew I should have something clever to say but I couldn’t think about anything but their piercing brown eyes which were staring deep into my soul.

“One more round,” I said huskily. It would be three more rounds before we both went back to the townhouse to crash. And, surprisingly, no nightmares.

Luke’s POV

When my dad explained his plans for our future all those years ago, it all made sense. I remember sitting in his office, pleased to be included in the work my dad was doing.

“Luke, I’m telling you this because you’re the eldest - that means you’re the leader. Your mother and I have always known that you and your siblings would be incredible heroes. We made a deal with the people behind the seven to get you, Margaret, and Sam what you’ll need to be the best heroes you can be.” He said to me, holding my gaze to impress the seriousness of his request. “I’m going to need your help to make sure that your siblings stay on the right track, ok? This world is full of temptations - but you three have a responsibility as heroes.”

A responsibility as heroes. That stuck with me - more than I think he intended. And it became clear throughout the years that my siblings did not feel the same way. They didn’t feel the sense of duty I felt towards society. I have these powers - shouldn’t I be using them for good?

I knew our dad just had our best interests at heart, and I understood his motivations. So I was okay doing what he asked. Even when it felt... wrong. Like reading my sister’s journal and reporting on her research and inventions. Or helping them put Sam in that facility. I try not to think about that too much - he killed himself two days after he was admitted there, and it still feels like it's my fault. I isolated him from his support system - but he needed help, more help than we could give him. Dad had been right all along - unfortunately. Maggie’s insistence that Sam is alive when she doesn’t know anything is infuriating. She wasn’t there when Sam was committed. She didn’t see the animal look in his eyes when he was being driven away. After seeing that, it was much easier to understand how he could have killed himself.

A few days before the gala, my dad called me to chat about Maggie and her ... attitude problem. I had noticed it, of course - she had no desire to actually put in the work to become a hero or flesh out the story that had been created for her - to cover up her mistakes.

“Listen, son, I need a bit more help with your sister. Despite all the work Robert and I put in to get her this deal, she’s still dragging her feet, and we are getting a bit... concerned.” He said seriously. “We were hoping you could talk to her at the gala, and introduce her to some of my associates. She’s a good girl, and she means well, but sometimes I think she forgets what’s truly at stake.” We’d had this kind of conversation before. It was different when she and Sam were together - they brought out the worst in each other. Idealistic, stubborn, and selfish. They have no understanding of what it takes to become a hero or what it took for them to even get their powers in the first place.

“Of course, dad. She’s smart, she’ll come around.” I said, and I hoped I was right.

“She better. A lot changed when Sammy died. We can’t afford any more setbacks.” The casual way he spoke about Sam’s death - as if it hadn’t changed everything - made my stomach churn, but as usual, I ignored it. Everyone copes differently, I guess.

That’s what I was thinking as I got ready for the gala, tightening the ruby-red tie I had picked out to match Cate’s gown. But little did I know, this was more than just a conversation, and Maggie wasn’t the only one in the dark about what was truly going on.

< prev | next >

thanks to @barbieprincesshilton for the edits

#jordan li #gen v #gen v prime #jordan li x reader #gen v fic #angst #luke riordan #sam riordan #lukes little sister x jordan li

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edgier-than-a-diamond · 5 months ago

Note

break and midnight for james, for the not so nice oc asks 🐉🔍

Thank you for the ask 🫶!! Ask game this is from here! Very very sleepy now so apologies for errors.

break: What would cause your OC to break down completely? What do they look like when that happens? Has anyone ever seen them at their lowest?

-The end of cycle 1 is a prime example of James breaking. He cared so little about continuing on that even his body refused to heal properly… and of course, Allen was there to see most of it. But there are more things that could break him after that in subsequent cycles (and perhaps, do.. haven't decided which/how these happen but. my brain is turning them over).

Probably the first and worst is when his connection with Allen is severed (end of cycle 2). Second worst would be if his family moved their copious resources and connections to either drag him back to their estate (which could happen in cycle 3) or claw their way into inextricably being involved with his affairs (very likely happens in the end of cycle 2). Smaller breaks probably happen to him during Unmoored World, when he repeatedly tries (and fails) to save wandering pawns from the hordes of undead and boss monsters that rose when he decided to try and free the world from the cycle. When he breaks, he usually turns to self-destructive or avoidant behaviors. He straight-up just walks into the brine to take it out on himself until Allen convinces him to stop halfway through cycle 2. He'll also throw himself into fights when he knows are riskier, or when he's already pretty injured. Avoidance-wise, he stops talking to people he knows were expecting something of him, feign sickness instead of going to events, and sleeps a lot more than he needs to.

midnight: What keeps your OC up at night? Do they have nightmares? Fears? Anxieties? What do they do in the small hours of the morning when they should be sleeping?

-Definitely stress keeps him awake. On the nights before events like the coronation, he doesn't sleep at all because he keeps trying to think of ways to make sure it goes perfectly (and in subsequent cycles, ways to convince Captain Brant that it isn't worth it and mitigate some of its effects). He has nightmares often, whimpering and talking in his sleep. On the rare occasion he'll shoot up out of bed, breathing hard and sweating after a particularly bad one. (Putting a hand on the knife under his pillow helps during the first minute when he's trying to get through the residual fear.) When he can't sleep from just normal insomnia, he'll instead mend clothes or read by candlelight. If it's from anxiety, he'll pace the room until his body is too tired to support his brain's wakefulness, and/or write things to help him work through what he's thinking.

#dd2 #dragon's dogma 2 #dd2 spoilers #dragon's dogma 2 spoilers #james oc #my posts #ask games

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bemydoctor · 2 years ago

Text

The Cold Shadow

Title: The Cold Shadow

Summary: Bucky is sinking slowly. He is overwhelmed by negative thoughts of the worst kind. Trouble is, he can’t climb back up on his own. Fortunately for him, he doesn’t have to.

Characters: Bucky Barnes & Sam Wilson

Trigger warnings: sleep deprivation, alcohol and drug abuse, thoughts of suicide and self-harm, mention of blood, depression, PTSD, mentions of nightmares and night terrors

Other tags: Language, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Sad!Bucky, Crying!Bucky, Sam Wilson is a good friend, Bucky Barnes needs a hug, Bucky Barnes gets a hug, Bucky Barnes feels

Notes: Dealing with PTSD is a roller coaster. There are ups and downs, good moments and bad ones. This fic is in no way insinuating that he will miraculously get better after an episode like this. It’s just a chapter on his journey to recovery. It puts him on a path that is hopefully forward and maybe we can hope the next drop of this roller coaster won’t sent him as far back down and he will be better prepared to deal with it and ask for help. All my knowledge on the subject comes from TV shows or other works of fiction besides Google and YouTube, and not from any sort of professional qualification or personal experience. Edited by myself. Please message me if you find anything I might have missed.

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44369254/chapters/111587995

Words: 4016

>---<

Bucky listed to the side slowly, eyelids drifting close. His sluggish brain’s delayed response was to get his body upright again.

He blinked blearily, feeling like he was glued to the floor, as if gravity had increased tenfold turning his limbs to lead. His metal arm was so heavy it was just a useless hunk of metal beside him. Moving the fingers on that hand too much of an effort to even bother trying. Anyone who saw it would think it wasn’t even properly connected to his body.

Sometimes, his head would start falling, eyes rolling to the back. On occasion he would catch himself, forcing his mind to work for long enough to lift it again. It wouldn’t stay like that for long and gravity would soon resume its course. Usually, however, it was his head abruptly falling forward and almost hitting his bent knees that would get him to snap it up again. Not too much though. There wasn’t enough energy left in him to get him very far.

He tried to keep his eyelids from drooping, to at least keep them a sliver apart. The tiny slit of blue from the wall across from him slowly getting thinner and thinner. No amount of trying would get him to pry them open again.

A particularly sudden fall of his head woke him. He sluggishly raised it back, getting it to a position it wouldn’t take too much effort to keep it up.

If he had the energy, he would smile for finally getting his mind empty enough to make everything go numb. No amount of alcohol, pills or needles had managed that, his super soldier metabolism too fast to let any of that have any effect. For a moment he had even considered cutting himself. Maybe blood loss would be able to get him there. But then the exhaustion from several unslept days made him consider this.

His dreams had gotten bad enough that sleep was even more torture than wakefulness. Of course, being awake meant thinking too much, feeling too much, hurting too much. But sleeping was even worse. Without any barriers, his subconscious would take over and the nightmares were at a point in which waking up was getting more and more difficult leaving him stuck in a never-ending loop of terror. He would wake up with a sob, drenched in sweat, face covered with tears, lungs sucking in so much air it felt he would pass out straight back to sleep.

So he gave up on sleep altogether.

And right now, because of that, he felt like heaven.

His mind could barely come up with the idea of keeping his body from falling down. Any and all thought had drifted away several hours ago. He was floating in clouds. Finally at peace.

Was this what it would have felt like if the needles had worked?

A deep sense of calm overwhelmed him. He wished he could stay there forever. To just drift away and never wake up again.

Finally be free.

>---<

Sam called Bucky’s name again, his banging on the door more frantic this time.

“Bucky, I know you are in there. Open the door.”

He waited a few beats.

He banged more insistently. “You can’t hide from me, I’m tracking your phone.” More seconds passed. “Bucky, if you don’t open this door, I swear to god I’ll kick it open.”

Still nothing.

Sam sighed. His concern had turned to annoyance when Bucky wouldn’t open the door, but the silence brought the worry back, fiercer than before. This didn’t feel right.

Yes, Bucky would ignore him. He would make Sam wait and knock several times. He would ignore him away, then grumble and groan but would eventually open the door, if only to grunt at Sam and tell him to leave.

Sam shook his head, trying to keep his voice level.

“Okay, don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he said as a last attempt to ease the worry away.

He tried the doorknob, not surprised to see it locked. He looked around the nearly empty street. He lowered himself and looked under the mat, finding nothing there. He tried the empty pots on the dead garden next to the entrance and under the rocks nearby.

“Shit!” he swore under his breath.

He would imagine Bucky to be the type to have more than one lock, so even if Sam managed to pick the obvious one, there would be others on the inside.

Sam took in a deep breath and decided to try the window. It was higher than he would have liked but he eventually managed to get it open. He looked around again, hoping no one had called the cops on him.

He jumped through. “Bucky?”

He continued across the empty living space not seeing much out of place until he stopped by the kitchen counter. It was littered with empty whisky and pill bottles scattered around. He picked up a rubber tourniquet, the kind used to give someone an injection. He saw the empty syringes inside the sink and ominous thoughts swam through his mind.

He forced his legs to move again, his heart now hammering in his chest. He turned into the corridor that led to the bedroom then rushed to his friend’s side.

“Bucky!”

Shaky hands hovered over the limp form on the floor. For a moment he retracted them, too scared to proceed. He swallowed thickly and took in the sight of his friend. No obvious signs of injury or smells that could indicate he had overdosed. He wasn’t even clammy. In fact, he was still breathing. Not only that, but his breaths were deep and steady, and Sam realized the man was asleep. Really very asleep.

“Hey, Bucky!” he whispered, trying not to touch him. When he got no response, he tried again, this time in his normal tone. “Buck, wake up!”

Bucky hadn’t even changed his breathing rhythm. Sam took in a deep breath, resisting the urge to call an ambulance. He remembered the empty bottles of medicine on the counter. They wouldn’t have worked on him. He knew super soldiers couldn’t keep drugs in their systems for long enough for them to have any effect. Not without an elephant-sized dose on a constant IV drip.

But that didn’t mean the man wouldn’t try. If he was desperate enough.

“Hey, Buck, it’s Sam.” He touched his friend’s shoulder gently. “Bucky!” He shook him slightly.

No response. He let out a shuddering breath.

Sam shook him. “Wake up, Bucky!” he said more loudly.

This time, he noticed a slight change and the dread started to fade away. Bucky was alright. Just sleeping.

“C’mon, man. Just wake up.”

Sam tapped Bucky’s cheeks which seemed to rouse him a bit. He continued tapping away, not stopping even after he saw eyes squinting and a moan escaping his lips.

“That’s right, open your eyes for me.” He stopped his ministrations to look at him.

When it seemed like Bucky would fall right back to sleep, Sam continued slapping the man gently.

“Ngh.”

A pathetic arm movement that Sam could only guess it was Bucky’s attempt at waving him off made Sam grab Bucky’s chin to turn his head at him.

“Don’t go all lazy on me. Open your eyes.” he said firmly.

“Shhh. Go ‘way.”

Sam grabbed the limp man’s arm and forced him to a sitting position. Bucky slumped a bit and Sam pulled him back up again. Bucky’s reluctance was making Sam’s worry climb up his esophagus. He swallowed it back down. When Bucky started relaxing again Sam held him upright.

“Na, uh. Stay!” Sam commanded.

“M not a puppy,” he slurred.

“Then stop behaving like one. Now open your damn eyes!”

Eyelids fluttered for a few moments before slowly prying open. Bleary eyes blinked slowly, seeming to have difficulty focusing on him.

“Hey,” he said softly. Sam lifted the man’s chin and looked into his eyes, one at a time. He didn’t see anything that would normally worry him.

They started to close again.

“No. Keep looking at me.” Sam continued to search Bucky’s eyes for anything of concern.

Bucky finally focused on him. His brows drew together in annoyance. He rubbed his eyes then had to gall to pout his lips like a petulant child.

“What the hell, man? What happened?”

“I was taking a nap! What does it look like?” He waved around.

“Here? On the floor? In the middle of the corridor?”

Bucky shrugged. “Good place as any,” he murmured.

“What about, I don’t know, the bed?” Sam waved his arms around towards the bedroom.

Bucky brought his knees up against his chest and looped his arms around them. He supported his head on them. “Why are you here?” he said tiredly.

“Because I was worried about you. I’ve been texting and calling you for days!” He sat down in front of him. “Jesus, Bucky, I thought you were dead!”

He lifted his head. “Well, obviously I’m not. Now, will you leave?”

Sam sighed and ran a hand over his face. He looked at Bucky, examining him. The dark circles under his eyes, disheveled hair, unkept beard, and he didn’t need to sniff the air to know he hadn’t showered in days. His heart sank.

Bucky huffed. “Why are you still here?”

“Bucky, please, talk to me. I want to help.”

“Then leave me the fuck alone!” He shook his shoulder away from the hand Sam was about to place there.

Sam shook his head. “That’s all you have to say?”

“What do you want me to say, Sam?” His voice cracked and Sam’s heart also cracked a little along with it.

“You need to let me help you, Bucky.”

>---<

Sam moved to sit next to him then just stayed there by his side, their bodies touching. Bucky felt Sam’s body heat and released a shuddering breath, resisting the urge to lean onto him. For several moments Sam was a constant solid presence that wouldn’t let go. “You are not getting rid of me,” he said.

Bucky hid his face on his hands. For several moments, his entire existence was solely focused on getting a hold of himself and yet the vice grip around his chest wouldn’t let go. He felt it tighten and spread all over his body like a cold shadow that turned everything into misery. The pressure inside his head was getting stronger and stronger until it turned into tears that started to sting at his eyes. He suppressed a sniffle and tried to breathe through it but his eyes continued getting wetter by the minute. He started trembling and couldn’t stop himself.

A warm hand circled around his back. Bucky felt himself lose control when the gentle touch pulled him for an embrace. He let himself breakdown for no other reason than the fact he no longer had the energy to hold back. He buried himself on Sam’s shoulder and simply let go. The hand rubbed circles on his back through his tremors, but it only made the weeping turn into desperate sobs.

He gripped tightly and gave up fighting the tsunami of emotions that flooded out of him. He felt himself unable to stop. Every single tear that his body had ever produced overflowed out of him along with all the snot and spit too. He shook uncontrollably and wrapped his hands around Sam.

Sam held him through wails that felt like it would never end. Every single bad emotion that had clung to his chest over the last several weeks, months, years, being washed away.

Time seemed to have stopped. He didn’t know how long it lasted. He felt like he had been sucked into a vortex and come out the other side dazed and muddled. He sniffed away the last few sobs and broke away from Sam, still shaking, feeling a weird sort of disconnect between himself and his body. He was exhausted. Everything moved too slowly. He sat on the floor, shoulders hunched down, mind numb.

“You good?”

Bucky nodded, not trusting his voice to work.

“Why don’t you take a shower? That will help, ok?”

Bucky nodded again, too tired to argue.

Sam stood then an arm appeared in Bucky’s field of vision. He took the arm and gingerly got up onto his feet. Sam held onto him until he was sure he wouldn’t fall.

Bucky walked timidly, still feeling out of sorts. When he got into the bathroom, the water was already running.

“Do you need any help?”

Bucky shook his head and supported his weight against the sink, looking away.

“Okay,” Sam said before he left, leaving the door open.

Bucky shed his clothes and stepped under the stream, the hot water easing the knots he hadn’t realized he had. For several minutes that’s all that he did. He breathed through the numbness and eventually managed to find the energy to scrub himself.

By the time he was finished, he could barely keep himself upright. He put on the clean pair of sweatpants Sam had left for him at some point during his stupor.

He turned his head slowly when he heard footsteps approaching.

“Hungry? I made you an omelet.”

Bucky shrugged.

“C’mon. It’s ready.”

He sighed, too spent to do anything else. Sam had gone through all that trouble; he might as well try. He dragged his feet all the way to the stool behind the counter where the plate was laid out.

He managed to take a few bites before he found himself unable to swallow any more. He pushed the plate away, looking sheepishly at Sam.

“What about the juice?” Sam looked at him across from the counter.

Bucky forced a few gulps down then put the glass down, surprised to find it empty.

Sam rounded the counter. “C’mon. Time for bed.”

“I’m not a child,” Bucky muttered, shaking his shoulder to get Sam’s hand off.

The comment seemed to have no effect because Sam continued to supervise Bucky all the way into the bedroom. Bucky practically collapsed onto the bed.

“You don’t need to tuck me in too,” he mumbled, even though Sam was already pulling a blanket over him.

He really wanted to complain again, but his eyes were already closing and whatever it was he was going to say, he figured it must be less important than the gentle pull of sleep.

>---<

He woke up surrounded by gentle darkness. A faint light came through the window and Bucky figured it must be nearly morning.

He stared at the ceiling.

It was weird. He felt well rested. His body was relaxed, and his mind refreshed. He tried to remember the last time he felt that way.

He couldn’t.

Then, memories came back to him. The bottles, the pills, the syringes. Sleep depriving himself for days in the hopes of a short reprieve. The thoughts of maybe not waking up again.

And Sam.

He shuffled to the edge of the bed and placed his bare feet down, standing up. He realized his bladder was nearly bursting so he made his way to the bathroom.

After he was done, he followed the faint light and stepped into the living room, finding Sam sitting on the lone armchair in the middle of the room, reading his copy of The Hobbit. Upon hearing Bucky’s footsteps, he looked up, putting the book down.

“Hey, sleepyhead.” He stood. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” he said, failing to contain the annoyed edge to his voice. He shouldn’t be annoyed. Sam was trying to help.

He walked over to the stool and sat down, noticing that all trash had vanished from his place. He also saw that his sink was empty and that the marble had been scrubbed clean. His shoulders sank.

“You didn’t have to clean up.”

Sam walked over to him. “Yes, I had. This place was disgusting.” He moved over to the fridge. “Hungry? I can heat up the rest of that omelet.”

Bucky scratched the back of his head. “What time is it? How long was I out?”

Despite Bucky’s lack of an answer, Sam had taken the omelet out of the fridge and was putting it in the microwave. “I don’t think you want to know the answer to the second question, but it is now sunrise.”

Bucky’s eyebrows rose. “You stayed here all night? Where did you sleep?”

“Don’t worry about that.” Sam shrugged and placed the food in front of Bucky.

Bucky slumped his shoulders, guilt and shame seeping into him. “I’m sorry. You didn’t have to do any of that. Shouldn’t have.” He looked down at the steaming plate, the smell making his stomach growl. “Not for me, anyway,” he continued softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Of course I had to. You’re my friend, Bucky.”

Bucky looked up at him finding it hard to find any words.

He looked down again. “Why?”

Sam chuckled. “What do you mean why?”

He sighed. “Well…” He looked straight at Sam. “The first time you saw me, I ripped the steering wheel off your car before crashing it with you still inside. The second time, I tore your wing out then kicked you down to what should have been your death. Then the third time, after blowing up a tunnel on top of you, I knocked you out, trying to escape custody.” He ran a hand over his face. “Do I need to continue?”

Sam laughed.

The man actually laughed.

“Yeah, but that wasn’t you.”

Bucky shook his head.

He grabbed the fork and started to pick at his omelet, suddenly finding himself too hungry to continue the conversation.

“C’mon. After you finish up, get changed. We’re going out.”

Bucky whipped his head up. “Where are we going?”

Sam waved at his fridge. “You need stuff. Besides three eggs, all you had inside was an empty carton of milk. An empty one. What kind of animal puts an empty carton back into the fridge?”

Bucky decided his eggs were more interesting and was in the middle of stabbing it with a fork when an alarm went off. He looked at the direction it was coming from, seeing his phone next to the TV, blinking and blaring at him.

“Ah, yes. I took the liberty of setting up a few alarms on your phone.”

“What for?” Bucky asked making his way to silence the damn thing. He unlocked it and saw a series of alarms programed into it, all with different names. This one was for waking up. The next one for breakfast. There was one for cleaning, showering, cooking...

“So you don’t forget to take care of yourself.”

Bucky continued to scroll through, finding his entire routine loosely timed out for him. He ground his teeth. “How did you even unlock it?”

Sam smiled. “Did you know you are a very heavy sleeper?”

Bucky slumped back onto the stool and tossed his phone aside.

“Look,” Sam started. “I just want to make sure you don’t spiral out of control again. Keeping a routine might help. And if you hate it, you can always change it to something you like.”

Bucky let go of his fork, suddenly having lost his appetite.

“Keeping busy is a great way to stop thinking about things you shouldn’t be thinking about,” Sam continued. “Keeping a stocked fridge, having stuff inside your place, doing something you like.”

“I don’t need stuff,” he mumbled.

“Yes, you do. You need shelves.” He waved at an empty wall. “Then you need stuff to put on the shelves.” He pointed at an empty space on the floor. “You also need a couch. You know why I didn’t sleep? Because you got nowhere for me to.” He paused. “You need a coffee table. Some magazines to put on it. A side table over there.” More pointing. “And then some more stuff to put on it. Some pictures on the walls would be nice. Some plants that aren’t dead, knickknacks, throw pillows, I don’t know, whatever it takes to make this place feel like it’s yours.” He walked closer to him. “I can help you with all of that. You don’t even need to ask.” He tilted his head. “In fact, I insist. And if you don’t go shopping with me, I’ll go by myself and buy everything on my own and have it delivered. Possibly choosing the worst possible color.”

Bucky finally looked up at him.

“When you wake up and open your eyes, you will find yourself somewhere that feels like it belongs to you. Not an empty shell.”

“What if I can’t stop thinking, Sam?” His tone was quiet, defeated. He slumped even further onto the stool.

“Then you can talk to me.” He took a deep breath. “If reading a book, going to the movies and cooking dinner won’t work, you call me. Talk to me, yell at me, doesn’t matter, just don’t keep everything in then try to pour it out in all the wrong ways.”

Bucky suddenly felt his chest constricting again and had to breathe through several times to get himself back under control. “I don’t know how.” His voice still sounded hoarse.

“Then I’ll help you. Because that’s what friends do.” Sam placed a hand on his shoulder. “You are not in this alone and I’m sorry if I made you feel like you were.”

Tears started to sting at his eyes. He blinked them away. He still felt like he didn’t deserve any of it. He certainly didn’t deserve Sam.

He sniffed and wiped away the tears. He was tired. He was bone tired of always feeling like his body weighed a hundred tons. That every step was a chore and that every moment that he lived was one he didn’t deserve. He was tired of thinking, he was tired of feeling, he was tired of being miserable. He looked up at Sam.

“Can you try that for me?”

Bucky shrugged a shoulder. “Don’t know.”

“C’mon. Get dressed.”

Bucky looked out of the window. “It’s too early.”

“You’ll be surprised how early some places open.”

He didn’t know that was true or not but he knew there was no fighting him. Sam would keep bugging him and bossing him around so he just complied.

“Fine.”

>---<

The door closed behind him and Bucky made his way to the kitchen. Sam walked over to the counter and placed the shopping bags down, Bucky following suit. There were too many things, in way too many bags, what seemed like an excessive amount of food for someone that grew up during the Great Depression. Bucky placed his hands on the counter and just stared.

Sam started to take packages out of the bags and spreading them around. “Are you going to help or not?”

By the time they were done, cupboards were full and the fridge fully stocked. Everything from canned foods that could feed him for a year, to just enough vegetables to last a week.

“I still don’t think it was all necessary.”

Sam ignored his comment, talking the items that weren’t food over near the armchair. He looked back at Bucky then let go of the stack of books and magazines on what seemed like an imaginary coffee table. The items scattered across the floor.

There was something about the scene that almost made Bucky chuckle, but he resisted the urge.

“Come on. You thought that was funny. Admit it.”

Bucky glared at him. “Hilarious.”

“Yes, it was.”

Sam was now grinning, his unwavering smile lighting up the room. Bucky failed to keep his lip from quirking slightly upwards. He rested his hands on his hips and shook his head, lowering it until his chin touched his chest.

“That was so fucking stupid.”

Sam raised a shoulder. “Whatever works, man.”

Bucky let himself finally smile. It wasn’t a grin, and it didn’t quite reach his eyes, but it was the smile from someone that was finally feeling warm air after weeks of being freezing cold.

“Thanks, Sam.”

>---<

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fantomette22 · 2 years ago

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Alright, let’s talk about your blorbos—Gehrman and Ranni!!

Alright let’s talk about Gehrman and Ranni !

Send me a character ask game here

Gehrman

You know I will have a ton of stuff to say on the first hunter!

First impression

Weird old man who’s really pessimistic and kinda gave up on everything. 😕 (Why don’t you explain stuff?! Why aren’t you useful pls. What's up with the doll too ??)

Impression now

Well… do I really need to explain ? Ah yes I need. I should for people who don’t know. Ok. I really like him! My interpretations made me like him, a lot. It’s like that, that’s how I feel I can’t changed that. I am touched by his tragic and nuanced story. I might have a severe brain rot on him to help

I love him ok, he’s one of my favs after all. I joke he’s the little blorbo meow meow of my heart but in all seriousness.. I really like the character he’s really interesting and intriguing. Yes he screw up and found out the hard way but I think he’s such a tragic and misunderstood figure too. LOOK AT HIS BOSS FIGHT AND THEME too ! Omg and everything really.

Also I used to found funny, people who have the most depressive guy as their comfort character ahah Well guess what 😅 I mean I’m probably still in denial but bro literally appear 5s in one of my nightmare to comfort smn so hm… I guess my brain is trying to made me understand smt.

Hm sorry I got a bit absorbed hm I will finish by saying that it took me quite some times to end to this impression. It din’t happen overnight for sure. I really I asked myself lot of questions. I spend lot of time doing research and having long reflexion on everything and particularly on him.

Favorite moment

His freaking boss fight ! Ahhh (yeah after finishing the game I listened to his theme for like 1 hour at 2am. Yep normal bloodborne experience 👍) I really love it I feel like I can imagined all his life with his theme (same with Laurence’s theme too)

Idea for a story

I have too much. Most of my stories are focused on more than 1 characters so with only him or really focused on him ? Oh well…

-His childhood/teenage years/ young adult years + how he ended up at Byrgenwerth (Kinda angsty in the middle but hey it’s « soft » compared to the rest 😭😂) I won’t tell too much on that but I already share some hehe

His life after Maria passed away and before the hunter dreams…. (Divided in 2)

Really angsty dark and depressive part not long after that … :/ want to make me cry really…

When he’s older and calmed down a bit, still hunts a bit, help new hunters, (rip og group of old hunters there’s not much anymore) have a dog and all 🥺 try to you know, live a normal life again until well you know… Cainhurst & the church… the dream…

-(Bonus Gehrman lil adventures in the nightmares/dream but it would feature other characters a bit too much perhaps)

Unpopular opinion

Well… I don’t think he’s that creepy, fucked up and sexist old man many people depicted him to be. I won’t dive into that too much now. It would be long and I don’t have the time. Another day perhaps + I already try to talk about it I think. And there’s really good stuff on the subject around. I think he’s a really nuanced and maybe really loose it after some point but not that badly. With all the clues I got in the game : the mistranslations (+ I didn’t played in English originally too!) + the differents interpretations on so many things + his presentation & ending it just don’t feel right for me to categories him that way. (+If he was really the biggest asshole don’t you think he would have end like Seluvis or Gideon in elden ring? Like shit? I feel many bloodborne characters are way way worse and no one fight over it too XD)

So yeah that's It I don't thins he's that bad 😐 that's it

Favorite relationship

Hm I’m not sure… I don’t remember, what was the character that have my favorite relationship with him again ?

I think it was a hunter too ? An old hunter hm… oh a lady hunter perhaps ? Hm… oh yes the person the doll is based on maybe ? Oh who was it again… ? 🤔

Ok I’m so sorry that was a really poor taste joke… Of course it’s Lady Maria.

I’m not sure how to describe it. Might feel insane perhaps but I have just so many thoughts and feels on those 2.

Even if I have interpretations I prefer and I’m a bit biased because of some of my taste & main hcs cough I love so many interpretations of their relationships as well.

What was their relationship exactly, where they just close friends, master/apprentice, coworkers, platonic? romantic feelings? Oneside/both sides? Did smt happen between them ? Never happened ? Was it smt really weird on fence or in the contrary nothing weird at all ?? Or were they maybe related from the same family ? Father/daughter (figure). Since when do they know each others ? How did they meet ?!

Even if I tend to share more of one specific headcanons of mine (the more developed one and version of bloodborne lore that I have) I have so many ideas clashing in my heads and I love seeing unique and interesting takes on it. We can’t denied this 2 are strongly link together and have such a unique bond that transcend death and dreams themself.

Of course my fav one being the one where/when they were (just) close friends that relate to one another a lot and believed they understand each other really well (for some times at least) idk but I cannot, not imagined them being all silly and doing really silly things back at Byrgenwerth.

So anyway I wish we had more and my brain is crazy trying to fill the gasps.

Also I wish we knew more on his relationship with Laurence & Willem but also Ludwig & the doll and other characters as well.

Favorite headcanon

Oh wow I would have too much so I will just stick to a few ones

He was byrgenwerth groundskeeper

He made the mercy blades + it was his originally (so he had a grand and smaller weapon too)

The weird half hidden note in the hunter dreams about ending the nightmare/dream is from him

He can sew really well and fixed the old hunters clothes who were damaged (people skins too 💀)

He used too/could make really great wood figures + toys

He made all the old hunters badge himself and they’re made out of siderite too (but I think it’s a bit oblivious)

He did some study at Byrgenwerth and do know quite a lot of things (all the books at the workshop, blood gems etc)

Oh wait it’s just A favorite one ?! (I’m bad a choosing ahhh hm idk he would make a great house husban- I mean the mercy blade hc ! Maybe)

Ranni

(rest undercut because it's a long post)

First impression

Really intrigued but I also knew many people love her quite a lot XD

Impression now

Well I love her of course (my tarnished is her consort so a bit biased sorry). But I’m quite critic of her too. What I mean by that is that I perhaps expect more things about her too you know ?

Favorite moment

Do i need to say anything…

And

And also when she talk to is in the form of the mini Ranni (that might be one of my fav moments yep)

Idea for a story

Euh… hm idk either her time with the witch Renna or what lead to the night of the black knife (that remember I have pics to read !)

Unpopular opinion

I don’t think it’s really unpopular but she’s quite a really gray characters too. I wish we knew more about her motivation and what she really wanted. Like did you really wanted to kill Godwyn and do a giant mess or was it circumstance hm? I found some other characters way easier to like than her too. Sorry 😢

Favorite relationship

With Blaidd of course (but also Iji and Rykard, her mother etc). (And the tarnished XD) and I wish we had info about her relationship with other characters (like all her siblings and half siblings)

Favorite headcanon

Hm… idk XD she really liked her mentor drip ? When I grow up I wanna be like her ! A old and ice heretic witch ? Ok sure Ranni x)

She wanted to escape her fate and all and she said she don’t want smn (a consort) to share her burden but she still deep inside i think she really wish to have someone

#my asks #ask game #gehrman the first hunter #ranni the witch #bloodborne headcanons #bloodborne #elden ring headcanons #gehrman headcanons

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i-love-sweet-william · 2 years ago

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late new year's resolution: giving myself permission to yell without art

Will transforming is always so good but it's fuckin impossible to search because there's no single word/tag for "in which Will looks physically fucked in various UD ways"

(I was specifically looking for someone's vecna!will art recently and I can't find it because I can't search tags with a ! since every post that includes Will and Vecna shows up....byler was just sitting there on the ground and Will was all tall and gangly and had his vines wrapping around Mike (as always) with Mike touching one....like a cursed finger boop......anyway if you know what I'm talking about, send me a link I'm begging)

ngl more than Will transforming and Mike comforting him, I like to think about fucked up Will comforting MIKE. consider:

4-5 — the monster under Mike's bed has gotten good at navigating the Wheeler's house when no one's home/everyone's asleep, but Mike can hear it sometimes and one day he decides "I AM GOING TO CATCH WHATEVER IS IN MY ROOM!! MOM SAYS THERE'S NO MONSTERS BUT I KNOW IT'S HERE!!!!"

Mike is constantly throwing things under his bed when he doesn't wanna clean up so Will has gotten used to Mike just reaching around for whatever he needs and going back to his human business so he like....deadass doesn't even attempt to hide when Mike Does look for him while setting a trap. his mistake. he panicked and wanted to calm Mike down but he overcompensated and destroyed any threatening vibes he might have had.

anyway now he's Mike's cryptid imaginary friend for the forseeable future and they have a sort of Sully/Boo dynamic, in which Mike is just fucking thrilled with this giant cute monster and Will is panicking about a human trying to be all clingy and gross because this is Not how it's supposed to go what the fuck is happening

6-8 — a friendless Mike is having a bad time and his extreme negative emotions yeet him into the UD and demoWill has to wordlessly calm him down and try to figure out how to send him back to wherever he came from. now he has this little human menace riding on his bony shoulders everywhere because Mike's self-preservation skills are nonexistent and he kept almost getting strangled by vines or pissing off packs of demodogs and also Will has to keep him alive without letting him get more contaminated than he already is from breathing the air.

when Mike does get back home, and sort of explains where he was and what was happening, no one believes him and they try to make him process it as a near death experience. I mean he eventually lies and tells people what they want to hear but like he can see evidence of Will following him around on the Other Side sometimes, in the present, not as a trauma filter or waking nightmare but just...flickering lights, temporary marks on the walls, a general feeling of no longer being alone and friendless. when Will is older and stronger, or if Mike has another particularly Bad Time, they'll see each other again.

9-12 — sentient horror Will Byers isn't supposed to be here but he doesn't have good control over his powers yet and he's not sure how to go back and he was spotted by someone while considering his options....which immediately narrowed his choice down to "do not permanently damage this human's brain with my incomprehensible form" so Mike just has a mysterious cloaked friend in the woods for a while (a really shitty cloak!! his wizard robe is pathetic rn but he will eventually gain more control and take a more comprehensible purposeful form, so he can face Mike looking fancy as fuck) eventually Will is gonna walk out looking like a background character from one of Mike's favorite fantasy movies and Mike will lose his entire shit. his ghost friend is cool as hell and he is so glad his mom forced him to go outside that day.

13-15 — Will is in the human world on purpose, has a human appearance on purpose, makes emotional connections on purpose......but it can't last forever. he has to take frequent trips to the UD to get the proper nutrients/energy to survive. if he doesn't return on time, he'll start losing his appearance or just sorta melt out of this dimension. which isn't really a threat to his physical health or anything, but having someone Witness it could definitely be detrimental to that Emotional Connections thing.

anyway Will often gets a lil too caught up in spending time with Mike and has to make a quick escape. one time when he realizes it's time to go Mike interrupts, Will blatantly fails to come up with an excuse, byler get in a mild argument about lying which wastes even more time, and then they faces the consequences of their affection (affection meaning Will not wanting to explain in order to keep Mike's mental health intact, and Mike wanting to know what's wrong because Will always seems like he's in fucking peril but never explains)

not that Mike ends up caring after he starts to understand the situation, but bro he thought Will was fucking dying or getting abducted by aliens or some shit in the middle of having an actual fight about Will "disappearing" like he was just not having a good time. Will chilled him out tho. and also now he can show Mike more of his capabilities

I will type about aus until my hands fall off......

#stranger things #will byers #mike wheeler #byler #my post #ask

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oleanderblume · 2 years ago

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Screaming into the void on this one. TW for trauma talk, csa, resurfacing memories n shit.

So I come home to my parents house about once a month for around a week. It's when I'm off work and really have nowhere else to be (until now thank fucking god)

I stayed in their guest room, which was my old room when I was a kid.

So...I've been trying to leave and move to another country, and my brain, being the dissociative asshole that it is, likes to flood trauma memories when I'm in a particular mindset. Typically it's when I'm feeling "safe" as in: I'm not currently being abused or traumatized on a daily basis.

Well recently its been flooding me every time I get closer to leaving, and it floods me with these highly specific memories that all have to do with my dad.

Now like, I've been abused my whole life, in a multitude of ways, including by my dad. My major shit is with sexual abuse, always has been, probably always will be. And most of what I've got came from my neighbor.

This stuff is not.

And like...it's been in contention on more than ine occasion, because of how big the blanks are and where they fit in our personal timeline. But now it feels like someone opened the fucking floodgates because it's all I get ever now. Just him. Just stuff with him.

I'd been dreading coming home because I didn't want to interact with my parents. My mom knows about some of the abuse (though I'm beginning to believe she knows much more than she lets on) and she tends to very fucking deliberately trigger me. Specifically over CSA stuff.

It's been this cycle of remembering things and then pushing them down for a week, then they come back up again, and if I ask about it or mention certain shit from when I was in that specific age range, I get a full dose of gaslighting.

No one in my family ever really like, paid attention to me, so my memories and feelings are pretty isolated, and it's been years so it's only me and the potential perpetrators who could corroborate my story, and those people are my parents. So of course they won't.

Anyways...I'm gonna talk about the memories now.

Essentially they took place when I was 11-14(?) And for the longest time I thought they might have just been a weird dream.

I'm just standing in my door and my dad is standing in front of me, talking about how my mom is mad at him and that he loves me and loves me like he loves her. I think you know where I'm going with this :/

I have other ones too. Mostly at night. He worked night shift so he would come home at 2 or 3 in the morning, and I can't tell if it's a real memory or not but he would come in my room to do stuff.

I don't know what to make of it. I don't want it to be real, that would be pretty fucking psychologically damaging. .

But here's the fucking kicker right?

I'm trans. I was recently home for several weeks because I had gotten top surgery and I had no choice but to stay with my parents for that time. While I'm heavily incapacitated, on lots of pain drugs, and sleeping a vast majority of the day.

I'm not new to nightmares. But I don't usually talk in my sleep, or beg. The only time I remember doing so was with a friend who had startled me awake because he touched me and I said "please don't" (context being my ex bf used to SA me while I was sleeping)

Ever since I stayed there after surgery and every time I stay there now, I get unbelievably paranoid. Like, can't sleep comfortably paranoid, and especially around my parents.

I had several nightmares about being touched and stuff, and like. It's different because I'm an adult, legally and all.

My parents don't really view me or any of my siblings as adults, let alone thinking, breathing people. They view us very similarly to objects that they can surround themselves with to look pretty and control through fear, pain, and extortion. Always sort of been that way.

It's gotten particularly bad since my sister pulled her son from them because my mother physically abused him. So she directs her anger at me because she can't punish my sister. She also directs her anger at me for being trans. Idfk probably some like, ownership issue she has with my body or whatever the fuck.

Point I'm getting at is basically: I'm pretty sure my parents knew, facilitated, and covered up at least a portion, if not all of my csa. And because they are especially mad at me for being not what they want, and also costing them (inadvertently) access to their grandson— that it might not have stopped(?)

They know I have DID. They gaslight the fuck out of me until I stopped talking about it, but they know it's there, they know I forget things and repress shit, and even if I haven't, they know how to gaslight incredibly well. My mom especially.

There are blindspots in my brain that make taking advantage of that stuff especially easy.

So...I came home the other night, stayed for a couple of days with my parents. My dad stayed up with me and my brother until we went to bed. He stayed up a little longer.

But I'd gone to bed. I'd forgotten to lock the door, but I fell asleep pretty quickly. But I kept waking up. I woke up cause I heard my dad walking around the house, talking. But they were that fleeting sort of waking where it's only a few words before you roll over and go back to sleep.

I had a nightmare that he came into the room and did things. I think it was a nightmare, at least. I do t know. It didn't feel like a normal nightmare and I woke myself up asking for my mom like a little kid. And I remember...certain things...that aren't easily replicated in a dream.

I of course asked him the next day if he'd gotten up some time in the night to do something, but he said no.

I don't like talking g about this. Because it's basically speculation and speculation on a thing I so viscerally do not want to be true. I worry that I make stuff up, convince myself of a reality that doesn't exist and then react to that as though it does. Idk.

It's especially hard because the next day my mom triggered the ever loving fuck out of me and then got mad at me for shutting down the conversation because no, I in fact do not like hearing what pedophiles say to children while they hurt them. It's fucking triggering. Especially after the night previous.

She's been making constant remarks on my size or weight, most often saying I look pregnant, asking if I'm pregnant. Which is impossible, because I don't have enough sex with other people for that to even be a concern.

The one that bugged me was her remark after I'd come back home after being legitimately assaulted, she said I looked 3 months pregnant :/ which is literally impossible because I'd have had to had sex while I was fucking UNCONSCIOUS and healing from surgery.

Most of this is just rambling sorry. It's 1 am and I need to sleep but I needed to say something somewhere, sorry.

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thirsty-4-ghouls · 2 years ago

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More sole survivor headcanons (at least for my own little fish freak)

LONG POST

might even add more later, when people aren’t trying to talk to me.

She cannot travel alone. She will get twitchy and more on edge and start to think about things she doesn’t want to think about. Closest thing she has to therapy is trauma dumping on curie and she feels bad about doing that.

She lost pretty much everyone except codsworth in a DAY, she’s scared of being alone again and afraid of loss. She knew something was wrong with her the moment she found herself ready to attack and hide from any noise she heard before finding codsworth, but she thought it was because she didn’t have her medication anymore. She started to think it might be something new in addition to her past issues when she first tried to go somewhere alone, just for a bit, and started to feel like a feral cat who was cornered.

She has nightmares and insomnia.

Once she learned that some people survived as ghouls a small part of her brain has keept thinking about how she doesn’t really know what happened to her parents and siblings because she had moved to a different part of the country for school and marriage. The voice at the back of her mind keeps reminding her that someone might still be alive back there, what we would call states away, but the map was different for her.

She already had a history with depression and anxiety, this made things both easier and harder. She already knew some behavioral therapy, but was now unmedicated and had just experienced even worse trauma.

She barely ate or slept until they found kellogg and after realizing she didn’t have anything to chase, no hints or trails, she finally fell apart. That was her rock bottom and she wouldn’t leave ANY of her friends (and family, codsworth you are oldest fam alive, complicated then future dynamic with Shaun the first excluded) for longer than it took to use the bathroom. That was understandably annoying for her new friends but she started to get at least a little more put together as she made more friends and any progress on finding her son. She latched on to nick in a particularly interesting way. seeing him as a sort of father figure.

After killing Kellogg she struggled with trying to avoid alcoholism. She knew her family had a history of addiction and was scared of getting it herself. She knows how easy it is to use drugs as an escape, to self medicate, because her own brother struggled with it. It makes her more sensitive to the topic. She’s also had friends who had less than healthy coping mechanisms pre-war, regardless of her field of work, I mean, she could have been a defense attorney (I haven’t decided. It would be funny with her seeing nick as a dad though XD) Supporting people who have problems with it also reminds her of her family (in a really sad way). She’s even more scared of having it herself because she no longer gets her prescription drugs (pharmacy exploding and all that) but does pretty well, you can’t miss something you never tried! Right? Right??? Unfortunately she has tried alcohol.

Why I don’t say her finding Shaun the first and learning that he was involved in some fucked up shit and grew up without her was not her lowest point: she knew where her son was, she had a new goal (convince son to stop hurting people as much. Didn’t really work, but it was something) and she had more friends and had had more time to start to process the other deaths.

She gets sensitive when it comes to robots. Codsworth was her only family for awhile after all. Not in the sense of fighting any, she has fought some of everything at this point, it’s more when they get pushed around (which you know, is pretty standard. You look at something like you would a toaster and that’s how things go🤷‍♀️) she’s probably seen as a little weird because of that, but she is weird so it’s not like she cares too much. She’s more like that with some types of robot than others. She’s still biased 🤷‍♀️

She also doesn’t have trouble seeing synths as people, especially gen 3, because she’s just autistic about it. Do you call one identical twin a copy? One less of a person? No. This is like that at its core! There is just a lot more fucked up around that… like the replacing people. Not the synths faults though. She actually feels bad for them and the situations they get put in.

She likes to gnaw on things, especially after becoming a fish-woman. It’s a stim that gets her some weird looks.

The moment she realized Shaun had basically cloned himself and made a second Shaun her brain decided she just had two kids now, kind of like when rescues will give a momma cat an orphaned kitten. Different circumstances same vibes.

Her eyes reflect light, that changed with her other features as an adaptation for seeing in dark water. It can startle people.

She seems very social because of her loneliness and eagerness for helping others (it gives her a purpose besides ‘find son’) but she’s actually very nervous about interacting with others. She copes by seeing introductions as a performance and not just, awkward social interaction.

She’s a 5’3 toothpick of a woman and thus prefers ranged combat.

She was afraid of heights and still gets nervous at a certain point, but she’s gradually gotten used to the idea of high up=safe, hard to reach, defendable. Thus, she can occasionally be found chilling in strange places off the ground.

In the months before she got kicked out of the institute she may or may not have gone around stealing data. Copying files, what have you. No one asked her to, she just does that. Her room at the castle is full of boxes with files and hollotapes like a pirated library. This has happened almost every where she goes, even if she doesn’t actually steal anything, she’s a serial computer hacker. You can stop a fish from swimming ;3 can’t stop a nerd from asking questions.

That last headcanon was developed before I did far harbor and makes it incredibly funny when dima gets mad that you destroyed all that knowledge. My oc is just standing there like “you’d think that, wouldn’t you” the fact that you can’t say you stole it (since it’s not canon) makes it extra funny because she probably would withhold that information from a stranger, sort of estranged uncle? or not. She also set off the evacuation alarms before destroying the institute and has encountered survivors. Two OTHER things you can’t tell him. Basically it’s like “you destroyed the information” and she’s like ‘perhaps’

not to mention that her SON is a gen 3 synth, obviously she would want all the info she could get. It’s not like there are guide books for “how to parent a different human subspecies and the differences in morphology” at least not unless she writes one.

Being like “Is this an uncle?” And then learning he also replaced someone is like, again? This keeps happening. (Average person has zero mysterious relatives who replace people with copies of them. Replacing people relatives georg(s) are outliers and should not be counted)

she has a grudge against elder maxson and he probably barely knows who she is.

Fun fact I think is funny, she has pacified many creatures, including every type of mirelurk except queens. This means she has basically had the same control over every type except the queens… who control the others… she is a fish usurper.

I as the player couldn’t make myself do nuka world or join the brotherhood because “makes me feel bad and that’s not fun” :/ I still haven’t finished she railroad quest line though because I know they have brainwashed kids on there and it also treats me apart. Nothing happens if you just ignore finishing it in the game, but I imagine she’d have to make a decision at some point if all that was actually happening, and she’s going to side with her family and settlers, so maxson gets no genocide in her timeline.

“Oh but fallout is a post-apocalyptic game and you can’t always make perfect moral choices” I know a lot of people didn’t care about Shaun the first, but I am a softie who was focused on exactly one thing until Kellogg died… well…. Until I blew him up, and so it wasn’t easy for me to do the (in my opinion) right thing and blow the institute up. I’m having fun but I still make decisions I think are hard in the game, I just avoid some because I can 😅 that’s not mentioning smaller decisions.

She found pickman disturbing, it definitely traumatized her more, but I think it might have done something to her too considering the fact that she has dismembered corpses and arranged them to leave a message at least once… she’s not okay and we all break at some point. More than once. Several times actually.

This is getting way too long so I’ll stop. I understand if you unfollow me for my blorbo infodumping

Again, these are all headcanon and or ways I played my character. This doesn’t have to be yours and you don’t have to like it.

#emma posts #fallout 4 oc #look at me traumatize her #I project and traumatize my blorbos #long post #I project so hard #empty slate is open for writing on

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